My Purgatory
by Sen Graham
Summary: A cheesy fic for Hanatarou's Birthday.


_Woot! Slight OOC cheesyness FTW! Man, it seems everything I type turns to cheese...oh well! Happy Birthday Hanatarou!_

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My Purgatory

Summary: A timid healer is assigned to clean the blood of a friend out of a stoic noble's scarf…both find catharsis in each other.

There was so much blood.

Hanatarou was a medic. He practically grew up in a clinic. The sight of needles, blood bags, operating tools and even fatal cuts were nothing new to his young eyes. But being used to something and liking something were entirely different things. This was not just any blood anyhow.

It was Renji's blood.

The boy stood stupefied in front of the wash tub, staring at the red that spread from the once white cloth to his hands. He did not know Renji on a personal level, but he had treated him a few times, and Rikichi had told him so much about Renji, it was like he knew him. To top it off, he and Renji had been allies in rescuing Rukia. They were not close, but they were still friends.

The red began to drip into the water. Hanatarou gulped. The only reason he did this was because Unohana had asked him to. He would have rather asked that the duty be passed to someone else, but he could never refuse a request from the mother figure in his life. So he stood before the water with his friend's glistening blood all over his hands.

'I hate him.' The boy thought.

Swiftly he plunged the scarf into the water. Hate? No, not hate, not towards the owner of the scarf. What he had done. Yes, it was what he had done that Hanatarou hated. The man did nothing while his sister was about to be executed, he had nearly killed him, as well as several of his friends. The thought made the usually quiet, timid boy want to scream. Byakuya. No. As much as the boy wanted to blame him for everything that had happened, he could not. It was not fair, and it was not right.

Hanatarou scrubbed the scarf against the washboard and watched the water turn crimson. It would take many washes to get the blood out. The boy watched the blood swirl and dance with the water. He wondered just how much Renji had hurt, how scared Rikichi had been, and he felt tears well up in his eyes.

'Stop it, crying won't solve anything,' Hanatarou ordered. But it hurt. He thought of Ganju on the bridge with blood streaming out of him and the cold look in the noble's eye as he turned to do the same to…Hanatarou repressed the thought and shuddered.

Hanatarou emptied and refilled the basin. He treated the cloth roughly. Why should he be gentle? If the noble was not satisfied, than Hanatarou could just say it had been beyond repair to begin with. The boy sighed and began to rub the cloth against the washboard with careful, even strokes. He had to do it. What would the petty act of defiance have done anyhow? He would not have felt better afterwards, if anything, he would have felt worse.

Basin after basin was emptied, cleaned and filled as the scarf slowly faded back to white. Slowly, Hanatarou begrudgingly purified the scarf. 'I'm only doing this for Unohana-Taicho,' he reminded himself, 'As soon as it's cleaned and returned, I'll never think about him again.'

"I-I'm here to deliver a package to Kuchiki-Taicho!"

Hanatarou bowed, practically folding himself in half with a simple white box hugged tightly to his chest. The servant gave the boy a quizzical glance, and motioned for him to follow.

The small medic nervously followed the man down the hall. The place was huge, and kept immaculately clean. It was an uptight and rigid house that reflected its owner. Even the wall hangings looked down at the boy condescendingly. Hanatarou held the package with trembling hands. 'Go in, hand it over, get out, go in, hand it over, get out,' he mentally chanted to himself.

The servant stopped and turned around. "Name?"

"Hana- I mean, Y-yamada Hanatarou," stuttered the boy.

The servant cracked the door open, "Excuse me Kuchiki-sama. A Yamada Hanatarou is here to see you."

"Send him in," ordered a cold voice in reply.

The servant slid the door open and bowed, motioning for Hanatarou to proceed on his own. The boy gulped and quietly entered. The door slammed shut and Hanatarou instantly bowed, not even taking in what the room looked like. 'Go in, hand it over, get out,' he reminded himself.

"Ah, I-I've c-c-come to return the scarf y-you sent to the fourth d-division for cleaning Kuchiki-Taicho," exclaimed Hanatarou. He held the box out and waited for the noble to take it.

"I am over here Yamada Hanatarou," said the cold voice somewhere to his left, "You ought to at least face the right direction when you address a superior."

Hanatarou flushed red and looked up. The noble was indeed just to his left, and Hanatarou cursed his luck. This was what he got for being born on April first.

"I…I…" Hanatarou stammered dumbly.

"I heard you the first time," said Byakuya, "Bring it here."

Byakuya walked to the center of the floor and gracefully knelt down in seiza position. He pointed to a spot directly in front of him where he wanted the medic to sit. Hanatarou did as he was wordlessly commanded, though he half knelt and half stumbled to the floor. With trembling hands, he placed the box in front of him and waited to be excused. His heart pounded as Byakuya lifted the lid.

The noble pulled the scarf from the box and examined it with a critical eye. Hanatarou's own eyes simply sank to the floor as he tried to calm his heart.

"Was it you who cleaned this?" asked Byakuya.

"If there's something wrong I'll do it again Kuchiki-sama!" squeaked Hanatarou, getting ready to apologize.

"You will do well to learn not to make assumptions," scolded Byakuya, continuing his inspection.

Hanatarou sat still waiting and hoping for the ground to swallow him up. He just wanted to leave. Why was the noble still keeping him here anyways? Hanatarou commanded his body to calm itself, from his racing heart and trembling fingers.

"Spotless…" the noble mused stoically, "You did well."

"T-thank you," whispered Hanatarou, "Well, I'll just go then-"

The medic rose to his feet and got ready to make a break for it, but he was halted.

"Stop," commanded the noble, "Sit, you were not excused."

Hanatarou did as he was told. He did not look up as he sat down again. He could feel steely black eyes boring into him. Hanatarou hated the feeling of being inspected and judged as if he were some object on display for the noble.

"Yamada Hanatarou, you did a thorough job" began Byakuya, "Why?"

Hanatarou was shocked. "Why?" he repeated dumbly.

"I believe that is what I asked," said Byakuya.

"B-because, Unohana-Taicho ordered me to," Hanatarou answered timidly, but honestly.

"I see," said Byakuya.

Hanatarou waited for the noble to say something else. He dared not look up from the tatami mat, to check if the other man had left, of was signaling for him to leave. He was rooted to the spot and terrified. The fear intoxicated him, more than anything he wanted to leave.

"B-by your leave, Kuchiki-Taicho?" asked Hanatarou quietly.

"No," said the noble bluntly.

Hanatarou then did something he instantly regretted. He whimpered. It was quiet, almost inaudible, but loud enough to be heard in the silence. He hoped perhaps he noble had not heard him.

"I frighten you," said Byakuya plainly.

"I-I'm sorry," whimpered Hanatarou.

"Stop your worthless apologies this instant," commanded Byakuya, "You will agree or disagree. I frighten you."

"Y-yes," cringed Hanatarou. He felt tears coming to his eyes. Why was the noble torturing him like this? What had he done? Or was this for Byakuya's amusement. The thought made Hanatarou sick.

"You hate me," said Byakuya.

Hanatarou whimpered and sniffled back tears. He was terrified, and he wanted to go back to Unohana and ask her never to send him to the sixth division Captain again.

"You will reply," ordered Byakuya. Hanatarou yelped as the noble took his chin in an iron grip and forced him to look up, "And you will look me in the eye."

"Kuchiki-Taicho, you're hurting me," said Hanatarou, "P-please-"

"You will reply," the noble repeated.

"N-no, I don't hate you!" cried Hanatarou. His body contradicted his actions as he shoved the other man's hand away.

"I…I hate what you did to Renji…I hate that you hurt Ganju…and how you abandoned Rukia…I-I hate how you're bullying me…and I hated having to clean Renji's blood out of your scarf…but I don't- I can't hate you," explained Hanatarou. His eyes were again cast to the ground and the tears were coming again, "Please, let me leave. Please."

Hanatarou was not answered. Instead the noble leaned in closer. Hanatarou whimpered as he felt a rough hand once again pull his face upward towards the black eyes and still haunted his nightmares. Byakuya was gentler this time, but his grip held him fast.

"Forgive me Yamanda Hanatarou, I wanted to be sure," said the noble gently.

"Sure?" asked Hanatarou, completely flabbergasted, "S-sure of what?"

"You have an unusual gift," replied Byakuya, "Despite everything you are unable to hate. To have such innocence and to forgive so quickly is foolish, but admirable."

Hanatarou stared into the black abyss that was the eyes of the noble and blinked in confusion. Byakuya Kuchiki…admired him?

"However, if you do not find a way to purge the hatred you feel, you will inevitably become bitter and forget how to forgive. Do you understand Yamada Hanatarou?" instructed Byakuya. "If you wish to cry, I will look away. I can see you are upset and frightened."

Hanatarou blinked at the tears that had gathered in his eyes rolled down his cheeks. He sniffled and wiped his face as the noble faced the back of the room. For the first time Hantarou took a good look around the room. He gasped as he looked at the back wall. There was an alter there, and a picture of a girl with a frightening similarity to Rukia.

"Kuchiki-Taicho," he asked between sniffles, "Is that…Hisana-dono?"

"It is," replied the stoic an in his usual idiom.

Hanatarou shuffled closer to the man he feared, "She's very beautiful."

"Was, Yamada Hanatarou, she was very beautiful," Byakuya corrected.

"She still is, isn't she?" mused the boy as he sank into a seiza position himself. He looked up childishly, "Do you miss her?"

Byakuya looked down at him, "More than you can imagine, and now I fear she is angry with me for what I have done to Rukia."

"Of course she's not!" protested Hanatarou, then clamped a hand over his mouth, shocked by his own bluntness. Byakuya arched his brow, equally shocked and confused, but not showing it.

"What?" asked Byakuya.

Hantarou shook and stammered, "I…I mean…She must miss you too and, maybe she wouldn't be angry at you. You did save Rukia in the end and…she must understand what you went through, even though the rest of us don't…she might be mad about Rukia almost dying but, I think she still loves you and misses you."

Byakuya knelt beside the boy and gazed at the picture. "You are inexperienced, foolish and naïve Yamada Hantarou, but I hope that you are right."

Hanatarou gazed at the picture himself. She was indeed a very beautiful lady, even though she looked a little sad. His legs were getting numb from kneeling, so he simply hugged his knees to his chest in a more comfortable position. Suddenly he felt a hesitant hand touch his slim shoulder. Now it was his turn to be surprised by another's boldness. He smiled softly and leaned against Byakuya's strong chest, his fear completely erased.

"She loves you…" he whispered softly, "She loves you so much it hurts."

The grip on his shoulder tightened, unwilling to let him go. And the lion and lamb knelt in a stoic embrace, in perfect purgatory.

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_One, two, three...CHEESE!_

_Review please?_


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